


Any Given Patronage

by Brice_Gottlieb



Series: Any Given Patronage [1]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Modern Setting, Multi, Multiple Gender and Sexuality Representation, Original Character(s), Past Relationship(s), Religion, Slow Build, patron saints
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-11
Updated: 2015-02-11
Packaged: 2018-03-11 17:38:21
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 782
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3332021
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Brice_Gottlieb/pseuds/Brice_Gottlieb
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>If their lives were written down, it'd have been in the pages of a mistreated composition notebook with plenty of magazine clippings, reeking of White-Out and the cheap ink of ballpoint pen. Probably a few hipster stickers on the cover; stuff like curled mustaches or Buddy Holly frames. He'd consider them a success the second someone blogs about them. All their fanmixes are required by law to contain at least 3 Hozier songs.</p><p>Ruben still couldn't tell if he really wanted all that or if it was the stuff of nightmares.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Any Given Patronage

**Author's Note:**

> As an Original Work, all characters herein are of my own creation to the extent of my knowledge. If they appear to be of resemblance to other works, that is not my intent. I tried my best to find names unassociated with other works. As an Original Work, the tags and chapters herein are subject to change and editing. 
> 
> I know fiction like this doesn't get much review, but comments, criticism, and kudos are much appreciated. Feel free to bookmark for updates.

It ended with a bitter kiss and a closing door. 

 

They tell you about splitting up for the good of each other. People talk about it being better in the long run, that moving on isn't easy but it happens naturally. Do they ever say what to do in the immediate seconds after? Do they murmur the steps to forgetting the last glimpses and tired final sentences? Whomever they are, they can't speak loud enough to overtake the sound of his own heavy breathing and the pounding of his heart against both temples. A bone chilling realization swept through him from feet to head. Like hounds after a fox came anger and grief to water his eyes. His lips tasted of her tea. She was gone, Anthony surmised, and what comfort was there? It was for the best, but no advice could be given in times like this.

 

So he moved the coffee table a few inches and admired the indention of the carpet he'd exposed. And then visited the master bedroom, moving the nightstand from the rooms' left to its right. Turned the bed against the wall rather than perpendicular. Ripped off the sheets and flipped the twin mattress. For all her ranting, Anne hadn't left a single trace behind. When Anthony shoved every pound he had against the armiore, there was a clattering of empty hangers where her dresses once hung. The red kettle was gone from the stove top as he raided the refrigerator to dispose of all leftovers. The cabinets still smelled of her teas, though. He rushed to the bathroom and returned with a full can of Febreeze, intent on rectifying. 

 

Anne didn't need him anymore. Somewhere between her ongoing college career and his busy weekends, she'd found other people to call friends and no longer had time for his late nights. She'd go on to be a great pediatrician, he knew. There just wasn't room for their love anymore. 

 

It was half-past noon when Anthony sat heavily on the stripped bed. The self-pity was setting in along with the grief and no matter how hard he clutched the mattress edge, the mood wouldn't alleve. He was left to the silence of his own doing, mentally recounting the hours. Setting his glasses aside, Anthony let the tears well up. Everything in the apartment had been adjusted, shifted, and changed. The impressions left in the carpet were plentiful and stark, something Anne hated. Anthony had always found it difficult. He liked change. She disliked the imprint left behind, the absence of familiarity. Change was a part of the healing, he reasoned. A half-choked laugh slipped out as he wiped at brown eyes. He'd have to sweep the floors and do the laundry. The need to be rid of every fiber overtook his weary bones, and with fluid motion Anthony was back on his feet, glasses in hand. 

 

 

He hardly stopped. Every once in a while, the silence crept too close and his fingers found the radio dial. The music was hardly heard through his scrubbing and singular mindset. The washer whirred distantly while he swept. He found time to empty the couch of its loot, throwing away hairbands and loose socks too delicate for his feet. The dryer rang simultaneously with his cell phone and in his confusion, Anthony couldn't decide which was of more importance. His hands fished the object out of his pocket out of familiarity, immediately accepting the call and pressing it to his ear while making a beeline for the washroom. 

 

 

"H-Hello?" 

 

"Anthony, I -- God, you sound terrible."

 

 

Natalie. Shoulders visibly dropping, Anthony clutched to the phone like a lifeline, trembling with a smile.

 

 

"Anne left. W-We never really...." Pausing, Anthony realized he didn't have the words to explain himself, but the usually brash voice took a tone of kindness.

 

"It's alright. It's fine; I understand. Look, I... I, uh, hate to do this to you, but there's someone here for you. Are you going to be in tonight?"

 

At this, he fumbled. "T-Tonight? I...geez, I didn't really think there would be anyone. I just took in over a dozen last week." The contents of Anthony's dryer were quickly tumbled into a basket and taken up underarm as he spoke. "I don't know if I'm really..."

 

"I can get Edd on it, Anthony."

 

The basket dropped upon the mattress with a 'fwump', the warmth of the freshly dried fabric leeching into Anthony's skin. The apartment was all too suddenly quiet again. "No," he murmured, pressing the phone between cheek and shoulder as he shook loose the gray jersey knit sheets. "No, I'll be there." 

 

Natalie's sigh cut off as she ended the call.


End file.
